The Waterblossom proceeds, slowly because it is "...ponderous and heavily laden..." (p. 297), from Paz de la Frontera towards the Cynthian town of Lulach. At first, there are teeming rowboats and hydrofoils but later only barges and a towed timber raft. The brown, sheening, murmurous river is two kilometres wide with forested banks. Fliers dart and skim. It is quiet and cool. On horizonless Daedalus, Diana sees the river valley receding as if to infinity, toylike snowpeaks, a far away gleam that is the ocean and sunlight spreading into a ring instead of disappearing. Day becomes dusk, not night. She sees Imhotep and Icarus - another planet and a moon - but no stars except a few scattered points. Axor praises the Creator.
And now, in Lancaster, a Sunday walk, possibly along the river or the canal or towards the Bay.
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